17. LEO

It was creepy. Going upstairs in the darkness to the flat. There were lamps on, but they weren't bright. My body on edge because I knew there was a snake somewhere, maybe around my feet, waiting for me to come in so I could become a snack.

The flat was one large open floor space, white walls with spotlights showing off the colourful paint splattered canvases. There was a messy bed by the window, and against a wall, a huge snake tank with thick branches and types of camouflaging materials.

I approached it, the lid was secure. I don't think I'd ever seen a snake before, not in person. I'd seen them on TV in the nature documentaries, but never so close. This one was green, thick, coiled up in a circle on the dust covering the bottom of the tank. It blinked open its eyes and flickered its forked tongue.

I stepped back, almost stumbling over my feet in these horrible shoes Samuel continued to make me wear.

At least I knew I wasn't going to be attacked now.

Elias had a similar machine that Samuel had in his kitchen. I knew how to use those, and even if I didn't, I had Susie on speed dial, she could guide me through a coffee machine if I asked her too. Maybe not so early, but she would.

Waiting for the coffee, I swiped a magnet from fridge door.

As the coffee came out of the machine and filled a cup, I was losing myself in thought. Last night came out of nowhere. It's almost like we were playing some cat and mouse game, and I was happily the mouse, if that mouse did some of the chasing too.

I'd even looked in on him while he showered. It was brief, I tried not to, but I couldn't help myself. His back was turned, I saw the definition of his muscle and the way soap suds washed across his skin. It made me jealous I wasn't one of them.

I walked down with the three cups of coffee, a skill I'd learned from being fired after part-time work in cafés as a server. Plus, I was just great with my hands.

"She's running a little late," Elias said, accepting a cup from me. "Any sugar in these?"

"No, I—"

"That's fine," Samuel said, taking a cup. "So, what did you see up there?" he snickered. "Any skeletons?"

"Skeletons?"

"No, I cleaned the bodies," Elias said with a wide grin.

I didn't know if they were being serious, or just having a laugh at my expense. "I saw the snake. Does she always stay in the tank?"

"No. She sleeps in there," he said.

"I hate them," Samuel said, snarling his upper lip. "They don't have legs and they look like they'd be incredibly slimy."

They both got into it over how snakes weren't slimy. I almost thought there would be a fight. I stepped away from them and sat on a chair. It was early, but I still send Susie a message. We had to meet up so I could tell her all the things, just none of the crazy things about Samuel.

The woman arrived. Christine. A young woman with blonde hair slicked back into a tight ponytail. "I've got fifteen minutes," she said.

Samuel pulled out the plastic sandwich bag with the collected hairs inside. "I'm not sure which are dog hairs," he said. "But how long could you get me results?"

"A couple days," she said. "I'll have to figure out which ones are dog, and which are human. Then I'll have to analyse them. Your brother said—"

"My cousin," he interrupted her.

"He told me you're looking to find out what breed of dog it was, right?"

"Yeah. A couple days."

Looking at his body movement, I could see him tense up. I knew he'd tell her he didn't have a couple days.

Elias produced a stack of bank notes from inside a filing cabinet. "As fast as you can," he said. "Remember. Nobody can know."

The woman smiled, accepting the stack of notes. "I can't rush the machines, but I'll do what I can. Pleasure doing business with you both."

As she left with the money and the hair, I watched Samuel pace the office. Elias was more relaxed, sitting on his swivel office chair.

"C'mon," Elias said, swotting at Samuel. "I told you she's good."

"I thought we'd have results today."

"Today, tomorrow, we'll get them," he said.

I knew he didn't like that news.

We didn't stay much longer after that. I wanted to see the gallery in the light day, real day, not this weird morning bullshit. Nobody except the marks in their expensive suits got up this early and dressed in their fancy clothes.

Samuel saw me. Really, saw me. The cogs turning as I looked at someone walking in our direction for a little too long. It seemed to be part of my nature to size people up and what their potential net worth was. Lucky for everyone involved, I wasn't as good at that as I once believed, otherwise, I might not have gone anywhere near Samuel.

"You can't turn it off," he said.

"Huh?"

"I'm the same. Every person I see, I wonder how I could take everything they own, but I grew out of that," he continued. "It's not so much of doing it to everyone, but the people who deserve it."

It seemed we were alike. I only did it to those who could afford it. "But I've never—you know, done that." I placed a finger under my throat, as if slicing it.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "You're not a killer. So, what do you want to do today?"

"I thought we were going to the office," I said, stopping in the street. We were walking toward his office.

"Not anymore, I want to do something else. Something to take my mind off all of this."

"We can go back to the flat and watch TV," I said, trying not to let out a yawn. I was one and a half cups of coffee down, and still yawning. It must've been because being awake this early was criminal. "Yeah?"

Samuel adjusted his suit jacket and pulled out his phone. "If that's what you want. Let's do that."

"But—but don't you have like business and stuff to do?" I asked. The stuff in that sentence was referring to all his criminal actions. I didn't want to see him kill someone else, but I enjoyed that crazed look he got, almost like he would sweep me off my feet. Literally.

"That's why I have this." He waved his phone in my face. "You know that office space is just a shell, nothing really happens there. It looks pretty, people use it do a little creative accounting, but it's not where the real business happens."

I was full of questions, I felt like my little was coming out, the curious side of me with an endless supply of why and why not questions to every answer he had. "So, what else do you do?" I asked. "I saw the fish, I saw the—chocolate bar, but like, what else do you do?"

We continued to walk as he didn't look away from his phone, typing on essay on it. "The business has existed since before I was born, since my father was basically a boy. We run security, you met two favourites, Edgar and Bill, they're the men who gave you those nasty bruises."

"Isn't that not like when you go to a business and offer your services and you say no, so you smash their windows in and then they hire you?" I asked.

He stopped, abruptly and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Are you calling me a criminal?" he asked, before smiling at me. "I'm kidding. Sure, it probably started out just like that, but now, there's much more to it. It's a legitimate company, they're all legitimate."

"You have a big family too?"

"That coffee surely perked you with questions," he grumbled, looking back to his phone as we walked again. "It's big. What do you want to know?"

"All of it, I guess."

Samuel gave me a brief rundown of his family until we got back to the flat. His grandfather was the famous mobster, Dorian ‘Deadly' Maxwell. He had an internet page all about him. They had four kids: Samuel's dad, a twin sister, and two brothers. There was a lot of them, but so far, I'd only met the one cousin, and his uncle, and briefly, I met his sister.

"So, Adeline, my dad's twin sister, she moved when she got married. I rarely see my cousins there," he said. "They don't have any say in the firm, mostly because they're not Maxwells, they're—something else, I forget the name she married."

It was fascinating. "So, the women don't have a say?"

"If they keep the name, sure," he said, nodding at me and smiling.

"And you don't think that's sexist?"

His smile dropped. I'd pushed too hard, once again, I knew I should've stopped while I was ahead, but something told me to add another question in.

"It is," he said, as we walked to the front door. "My sister doesn't have a say, but I don't think she minds. She gets her own business out of it, like playing in her own sandbox, but the company business, she doesn't have a say."

"How many people get a say?"

"Are you making notes?" he asked, opening the front door.

I fumbled to pull the notebook out. "Should I?"

"No," he grumbled, taking his suit jacket off. "So, there's me. Then there's my Uncle Bennett, his sons, Preston and Louie, his daughter, Rebekah. Then there's my Uncle Reuben and his son, Elias. So, that's what—" he counted out on his fingers. "Seven. It was eight, until—my father, you know."

I didn't push him any further than that. It was nice to get more information, since he was willing to give it, but I didn't want to look like I was getting information like some mole. "Are you sure you want to watch TV?"

"I don't usually," he said. "But I'll give it a shot. What do you want to watch?"

"What channels do you have?"

"Like, all of them, I hope," he answered.

"All of them," I whispered under a breath. "Ok. I'll get into my onesie and then I want to see." I was excited. I never grew up with those fancy cable packages or shows. I was only currently able to watch what I could find on the streaming app Susie let me use.

In a light blue onesie covered in red stars and carrying Tuffy, I walked back to the living room to see Samuel laid out on the large sofa. He moved his legs and waved the remote at me. I turned it on, and I could navigate to watch security footage and news, but beyond that, I didn't know there were other channels.

Sitting down, he laid his legs over my knees. "What do you do if you don't watch TV?"

"Kill people, sometimes."

I knew he was being serious, but I couldn't help stifle laughter. "So, you just never watch TV?"

He shook his head. "I work out, I meet people, I make money. I never sit down and just—" he sighed. "I never really rest more than I have to at night in bed."

It was making more sense now why he was the way he was. He was a workaholic. Even now, he thought resting was laying down in his shirt and some trousers.

"If we're going to rest and relax, we should at least do it properly," I said. "Do you have any other clothes?"

"Gym clothes?"

Grabbing his shirt to undo the buttons, he allowed me. I thought he would've slapped my hand away and told me he could've done this himself. Last night might've changed things, or maybe it was the way he confessed to seeing me on the Little Me app.

"Are they comfy?" I asked.

"I'm comfy the way I am already." He took my hand and pulled.

Laid on his body, my face almost against his. "I don't think this is comfy," I whispered.

"What about this?" He kissed me on the lips.

I froze. I thought he would, but I didn't really think it would happen. We both stayed silent and still, staring into each other's eyes as the cogs turned about what had just happened, and what that meant.